Slipping Through My Fingers
by Livelier
Summary: A few months after the final battle, Harry goes back to Number four, Privet Drive. What he finds will surprise you... A little L/J, but mostly Petunia/Lily. Oneshot. R&R?


_A/N: Hello, all! I was reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, when this brilliant idea hit me. What would happen if Harry went back to Privet Drive after the final battle, and found proof that Petunia didn't hate Lily? So, I dropped the book, grabbed my "story binder", and began writing away. An hour later, I was done and trying to come up with a title. Call it a sign but right then the song "Slipping Through My Fingers" by ABBA started playing, and I just thought it was perfect. Hopefully it turned out as brilliant and perfect as I hoped it would. R&R?_

Slipping Through My Fingers

It was Hermione's idea to come her. She said something about tying off loose ends, and maybe learning something new about the Dursleys. Most of the time Hermione had good a reason for doing things like this. But this time, Harry couldn't see the reasoning behind it.

The house, like a lot of other places, was totally destroyed. Gone were the manicured lawns, perfectly trimmed hedges, and sparkling windows.

The grass was trampled and brown now, probably from the lack of water and Death Eater footsteps. Aunt Petunia would be horrified. She'd be particularly angry about her streak-free windows, though. They were now broken, and laying in a million pieces, scattered around the lawn. And in addition to being overgrown and unruly, the hedges were singed and burnt.

It didn't surprise Harry in the least. When Death Eaters don't find what they wanted, they liked to cause destruction. Especially Bellatrix. But Death Eaters were no longer a threat to Harry. Or anyone, for that matter.

Harry approached the door of number four, Privet Drive, and peeked through it. This was not hard to do because there was a huge chunk of wood missing from the door.

He pushed against the door gently. It immediately came crashing down. The sound of tiny feet scampering across the floor followed.

Walking into the house, he found it hard to believe that this was his house for so many miserable years. He paused at the tiny door under the stairs before opening it slowly. The hinges creaked loudly.

"Ow!" He grabbed his head pain, and crouched down to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe again.

Harry poked his head into the tiny room. It had only been about a year since he had vacated the house, but spiders and other various creatures had already infested the cupboard. It was a good thing I didn't bring Ron, Harry thought to himself.

The kitchen was next on his tour. After taking a quick peek inside, he decided that it held nothing of importance to him. The spotless appliances were not there to remind him of those terrible years he spent cooking for the Dursleys, and the table stacked with presents was not there to remind him of the times he had no one. He headed up the stairs to the second floor.

Dudley's room was the first one he passed. He didn't know why, but something told him that he needed to go in there.

The room wasn't in as bad of shape as the rest of the house. The Death Eaters obviously didn't care to waste their valuable time on this room.

Just as he was about to leave, something white caught his eyes. Harry wandered over to the nightstand and picked up the paper. It was a letter. Addressed to him. It read:

Harry,

thanks for saving my life. You know, you weren't so bad. Good luck…with whatever you're doing. Don't die.

Dudley Dursley

Harry smiled and pocketed the letter. It didn't say much, and the handwriting was utterly dreadful, but it meant something to Harry. Maybe Dudley wasn't such a terrible bloke, after all.

The next room was his previous bedroom. Harry didn't care to go in there. He knew it would be a total wreck that's the room the Death Eaters cared about most. Instead, he entered Petunia and Vernon's bedroom.

This one was nearly untouched. He guessed the Death Eaters wouldn't want to waste their time searching a room that looked as if someone had thrown up Pepto Bismol all over it.

Still, Harry was intrigued, having never set foot into the room. He walked over to Petunia's nightstand he assumed it was hers since it had pink doilies and a frilly lamp adorning the top and rifled through the drawers. He pulled out a picture of their wedding, but was shocked to see Lily his mother standing beside Petunia at the altar, looking absolutely radiant and beaming at her sister as Petunia and Vernon kissed.

Harry smiled sadly, trailing his fingers over his mother's proud face. He folded the picture, careful to crease it where his mom was. He put the picture in the pocket of his jeans where Dudley's letter was.

Then Harry walked out of the room and to the end of the hallway. He reached up and pulled down the ladder that led to the attic. He stepped on the lowest run to check its strength, then decided it was strong enough to climb, and began his way up.

Upon reaching the top, Harry cast a spell to illuminate the dark attic. Then, just for good measure, he cast another that repelled bugs, insects, and other small animals. Ron had taught him that one.

The attic was filled was boxes, dead spiders, and dust but mostly just dust. It appeared that the Dursleys hadn't been up here for a while, perhaps since Harry arrived at their doorstep. Dozens of boxes were labeled with Dudley's name. "Dudley's First Steps", "Dudley's first words", "Dudley's first birthday"...

And then there was one blank, unmarked box. Deciding it was his best shot, Harry waded over to it and wrenched the lid off.

A cloud of dust rose up in his face. He coughed and swatted it away. Once the air was cleared, Harry crouched down and began sifting through the box's contents.

He pulled out an old picture frame.

It was a picture of Lily and Petunia when they were younger, with their hair in identical pigtails, and their arms slung over each other's shoulders. Both girls wore huge grins. The picture was taken at the same park he had seen in Snape's memories.

Anxious now, Harry pulled out another thing from the box. It was the letter Dumbledore had written to Petunia in response to her inquiry about attending Hogwarts. Harry quickly placed that aside, still not wanting to think too much about Dumbledore's death. The next thing he pulled out surprised him more than anything else.

It was another picture. This one was much like the one he had found in Petunia's nightstand, except it was taken from a different perspective. The person who had taken it was standing a the very back of the church, behind the rows and rows of guests.

Lily and James were standing at the altar, holding each other's hands. Sirius, Remus, and Peter were all lined up next to James, along with a man Harry thought must be James's father Harry's grandpa.

To the right of Lily were Alice Longbottom, and three other women Harry recognized from the picture of the Order. There was no Petunia anywhere in the picture.

"You missed these," a familiar voice said from behind him,

Harry whipped around and came face-to-face with Petunia Dursley herself. He stiffened immediately.

At first glance, she looked the same as she had a year ago horse-faced and bony as always. But upon closer inspection, Harry noticed that she was not the same woman he had known for all those years. Not the same at all.

Her posture was more relaxed, and her eyes less scrutinizing, more soft and understanding. Harry wondered what had caused the change.

Then he noticed the bundle in her hands. She set it down next to the picture from her childhood and the letter from Dumbledore. Harry didn't have to looks any closer to see that the bundle was a collections of letter from his mother. The date on the letter at the very top was October 29th two days before his parents were killed. Harry gulped.

Petunia unclasped her hands to motion towards the picture of Lily's wedding Harry held in his hands. "I was supposed to be a bride's maid," she said, pressing her lips tightly together. "I refused. I didn't want anything to do with her or her freak friends."

Harry didn't respond. He just continued to stare at the picture of his mother and father, wondering why Petunia was here, and wishing his parents were.

"I was a fool," she admitted finally, her voice cracking. And unshed tear shone in her eye.

"Why?" Harry asked simple, looking up from the photo to stare at her.

Petunia sighed, the dusted off a box, and sat down. "When we were little, Lily was my best friend. Then she got that letter, and all of that went away. She got new friends, and left me behind. From then on, it was all about her. Lily got a Prefects' badge, Lily got all Outstandings on her latest exam, Lily is Head Girl..." Petunia's face tightened up at the thought, but her eyes retained the remorse and misery. "She got everything I had ever wanted without even working for it. I was jealous. So I started calling her names and making fun of her kind. I guess I was naïve enough to think that she would realize I was right and come running back to me."

Petunia took a deep breath and wiped her cheeks dry with the back of her hand. Harry couldn't understand why she didn't use the hankie she griped in her fingers.

"When she was seventeen, she brought a boy home to meet the family. Mom and Dad loved James. He was handsome, smart, funny... and he looked at her in the way Vernon has never looked at me." Harry could tell that this was the part of the story that bothered her most. "It was only a matter of time before they were married. But I was the older sister and I wanted to be the first to be married.

"Our mother made me ask Lily to be my Maid of Honor. Of course, Lily accepted. She always did everything she thought would please me. She was the best Maid of Honor I could've asked for. But when she got married, she didn't for me to even be a bride's maid because she knew I would refuse. So I refused to go to her wedding."

At this, Harry had to butt in. "Then how did you get the picture?" he asked, confused.

"One of my mother's friends took it," Petunia answered, shrugging. "Lily sent it to me. She knew I would want it. Lily always knew. She saw everything other people missed, and what they didn't want to see. I think that's why she tried so hard. That's why she kept writing, even though I never replied. She just knew."

Despite his best efforts, Harry felt himself getting angry. "But you didn't care. Even after she was murdered you didn't care!"

Petunia glared at Harry. "I cared more that you will ever understand. I still care!"

"Oh, is that why you let me believe she died in a car crash for 11 years? Or wouldn't speak her name?" Harry challenged, rising to his feet.

"No, of course not!" Petunia shrieked, also standing up. "You think I haven't regretted that all my life? You think I _enjoyed_ being reminded of her every single day?"

That threw Harry for a loop. "How were you reminded of her every day?"

She sighed and looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. "I see so much of her in you, Harry, and it kills me. I wish I could go back and change what I did. But I can't."

Harry gripped the picture tighter in his hands, and stared down at it, thinking the same thing. He looked up when he heard her sniff.

"They would be so proud of you," Petunia said. She shouldered her handbag, and brushed off the seat of her dress.

Harry smiled, remembering his conversation with them a few months back when he was walking to meet his death in that forest. "Yeah, they are."

Petunia took one last look into his eyes Lily's eyes then leaned in for an awkward hug. "Goodbye, Harry."

When she was gone, Harry packed the box up and carried it down the ladder, silently thanking Hermione.

The End.

_A/N: So, did you like it? Hate it? Want to crumple it up into a ball and light it on fire? Tell me! Leave a review! Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!_

_Always filled with love,_

_Livelier_


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